


Drowning in the Wishing Well

by blackkat



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, And also a troll, Angst, Dick Jokes, Did I mention the pining?, Dysfunctional Family, F/F, Family, Friendship, Humor, M/M, Mission Fic, Moral Ambiguity, Pining, Sai is a glorious asshole, This is All Very Troublesome, and therefore vaguely horrifying, even if it is Sai-style, more like epic bromance, sort of, there's lots of it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-17
Updated: 2017-02-24
Packaged: 2018-09-25 03:29:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9800819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackkat/pseuds/blackkat
Summary: There was a point in Sai's life—very recently, in fact—when he would have done anything to belong to an actual clan. He’s never had a wish come back to bite him in the ass quite this hard before.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ages and ages ago, the lovely and inspiring ShanaStoryteller gave me permission to use an idea from her fic _An Invincible Summer_ , and between that and my twin’s demand that I write him Sai-fic for his birthday, this happened. I meant it to be a one-shot. And then it promptly exploded in my face. 
> 
> You're welcome to stop laughing any time now.

It feels a little like he’s back in Root, in the middle of an assassination mission. Easy enough to disarm the traps on the second story window—familiarity lends predictability, and besides, Sai is very good at what he does. One last glance back the way he came, checking for any guards off their routines, but the darkness is still, unbroken. Sai smiles a little to himself, satisfied that he hasn’t lost the skills that once made him Danzō’s best even in a time of relative peace, and slides feet-first through the window to land lightly on the rug inside.

There isn’t even a whisper of movement, no sound of things stirring. Sai pads noiselessly to the open door, and habit more than need has him checking for observers as he slips into the hall. The stairs are to his right, and the master bedroom to his left, but despite the reputation of the occupant Sai picks the former. A few steps proves his hunch correct—there's light spilling from the kitchen, cutting through the shadows to cast distorted shapes along the walls and floors.

Avoiding the creaking stair seven steps from the bottom, Sai heads for the light. A part of him thinks of feeling exasperated, but it’s a mild thing, vague and a little uncertain; he probably doesn’t have the privilege, given how things stand. That’s fine, though—Sai isn’t certain he could care, even if he allowed himself to. Better not to even try.

He avoids the floorboard that tends to groan when stepped on, though there's no real need. Just satisfaction, because Sai has been a ghost and a shadow for the majority of his life, and a few brief years outside the darkness have changed him, but not that much.

( _Not enough_ , something in him says constantly. Sai has gotten rather good at ignoring it.)

The kitchen is warm and bright, dinner dishes still stacked in the sink even though it’s already after midnight. The smell of jasmine tea is in the air, still fresh, but the figure sitting hunched over the main table, back to the doorway, doesn’t seem to have moved in a while. Sai doesn’t hesitate, though he does mind his steps more carefully now. The bowed head doesn’t lift, and the shadows don’t stir, but he’s still cautious as he pulls his sheathed tantō over his head. One step, another, and he’s almost close enough—

Shikamaru flinches hard when the bamboo sheath taps lightly against his throat, leaping to his feet as the chair skids sideways and whipping around with a kunai already in hand. Sai beams at him, more of a taunt than anything, and waves cheerfully.

“You really should be more careful, lazybones. Someone might sneak into your home and take advantage of you.”

For a long moment, Shikamaru stays where he is, eyes narrowed. Then, with a beleaguered sigh, he tosses the kunai onto the table and drops back into his chair, running a hand over his tightly bound hair. “Asshole,” he accuses. “The only one likely to take advantage of me is _you_.”

With a smirk, Sai sets his sword down on the pile of papers Shikamaru was working on, then grabs the back of Shikamaru's chair and drops neatly into his lap. He drapes his forearms around Shikamaru's shoulders, leaning forward as if he’s about to go in for a kiss, and doesn’t let his expression change even when hands curl around his thighs to hold him in place. “You make me sound like a terrible person,” he says, too distracted to be an actual complaint, but Shikamaru's thumbs are tracing small, continuous circles on his legs, and his pants aren’t nearly enough of a barrier to keep him from being preoccupied with the motion.

“You _are_ a terrible person,” Shikamaru informs him, exasperated, but one corner of his mouth is pulled up and there's amusement in his dark eyes. He looks Sai over for a moment, not lingering anywhere, and asks, “You just got back from your mission?”

“Mm. I thought it best to report in to the Jounin Commander immediately—” Sai's attempt to lean in for a real kiss is blocked by Shikamaru's raised hand. A little miffed, he looks up, raising a brow at the younger man.

Shikamaru rolls his eyes. “You did not _actually_ bring me your report by sneaking into my house when I'm off-duty and _sitting in my lap_ ,” he says flatly.

Sometimes Sai is absolutely certain that Shikamaru is far too used to dealing with Naruto. “I left it with the chuunin on desk duty,” he agrees easily, and the suspicion on Shikamaru's face is easy enough to read. Aggravating, but not unexpected; for all that Shikamaru is a lazy slacker who would rather sleep than work, once he actually _has_ a job he’s startlingly devoted.

This time, Shikamaru doesn’t resist when Sai leans in, making his movements clear. Their mouths meet, slow and intent, and kissing is absolutely another thing Shikamaru devotes himself to. Sai is definitely not complaining; it traces heat through tired muscles, makes his breath come short and quick, makes him shiver when Shikamaru traces a thumbnail up his spine.

“You’re not bleeding anywhere, are you?” Shikamaru asks in the brief moment they separate. “Because you bleeding out isn’t attractive.”

“I'm not bleeding at all,” Sai protests, and if he mentally tacks on _anymore_ , well. No one else has to know that, and he has a vested interest in not letting Shikamaru undress him until they're somewhere dark. It’s more fun like that, anyway. “And I am always attractive. Ino told me so.”

Shikamaru rolls his eyes, very obviously. “Was she drunk or drugged at the time? Also, you two being friends is still creepy.”

Sai doesn’t tell him that they both have a lot more in common than anyone else might think, because they're friends and friends don’t betray each other’s secrets. He’s learned that much. Instead, he just smiles, tracing lazy circles against the back of Shikamaru's neck as he leans in to bite gently at his earlobe. Not the earring—that’s a line that was established very early on—but above it there’s a spot that makes Shikamaru's breath hitch, his fingers tighten on Sai's legs.

“Do you really want to talk about Ino right now?” he asks, and maybe seduction missions are more Ino’s territory than his, but Shikamaru makes a low, intent sound and rises to his feet, spilling Sai back to the floor. He catches himself before he tumbles to the ground, of course—he’s a shinobi, after all, and former Root on top of it—but only has a moment to collect himself before Shikamaru is pulling him out of the kitchen and back towards the stairs. They're up to the second story in a heartbeat, and nothing about Shikamaru is ever fast but this is very close to an exception.

Sai laughs as his back hits the wall beside Shikamaru's door, laughs for a bare instant before it’s swallowed between them, buried beneath a quiet moan. He can't tell if it’s his or Shikamaru's, but either way he pushes back, fingers of one hand tangling in a bushy ponytail, the other hand grasping desperately for the doorknob beside his hip.

“Impatient,” he teases, though he’s no better himself.

Shikamaru snorts derisively, made less impressive by the way he knocks Sai's hand away from the door and opens it himself, steering them backwards into his bedroom. The lights are, thankfully, off, and with the heady heat of want under his skin Sai wastes no time stripping his short jacket off and dropping it to the floor.

He’s been thinking about this since they crossed the Earth Country border, rushed on by freezing winds and a squad of Iwa nin who were _very_ unhappy that he’d stolen their target. Been thinking about it since he and Ino staggered into Konoha, half-holding each other up and breathless with equal parts victory, the close call, and their run. Been thinking of _this_ precisely—Shikamaru with that spark of want in his eyes, driven to speed as he unbuttons his shirt and kicks off his pants, the way he reaches for Sai and catches his fingers, hauling him close by his beltloops. He kisses Sai again, teeth and heat and the intensity he always hides as deft fingers undo buttons and zippers. A moment later Sai is tripping over the puddle of his baggy uniform pants on the floor, Shikamaru's fingers in his hair and curled around his neck as he walks them back towards the bed.

“Fuck,” Shikamaru mutters, and then his hands are on Sai's hips as he falls backwards, barely aiming.

The mattress catches them safely, and their bounce surprises a laugh out of Sai as he lands astride Shikamaru's thighs. Planting a hand on the blanket on either side of Shikamaru's head, he leans down, teasingly close but not quite enough so for another kiss, and says, “I don’t know about this. Don’t you think you're being a little forward?”

Shikamaru makes a noise of exasperation and swats at Sai's head. “ _Thank you_ for reminding me just how much I hate you.”

Sai's smile is a little too wide, but for once it’s natural. For once he doesn’t care. “I’ve read that friends seeing each other naked is an unconscious expression of deep trust. Dicks are very meaningful, lazybones, you can't simply write off this exciting step in our—”

“ _Gods,_ Sai.” In a rush of movement, Shikamaru twists, throwing Sai onto the bed and landing sprawled out on top of him, nose-to-nose. Sai blinks up at his narrowed eyes, innocent smile firmly in place, and Shikamaru gives him a flat look. “This is not the first time you’ve seen me naked. This is not the first time I've seen _you_ naked. This is not even the first time we’ve had _sex_.”

“But,” Sai says solemnly, “with you, _every_ time feels like the first—ack!”

“You,” Shikamaru tells him, with the air of a person revealing one of life’s great secrets, “are unbelievably troublesome.”

Sai bats the pillow away from his face, still laughing a little, and twists his leg around Shikamaru's as he lets himself slide down the bed a bit. “And you are in bed on top of me but not doing anything. I think I should be insulted.”

Shikamaru very obviously rolls his eyes again, but he leans down, one hand framing Sai's face, and kisses him deeply. Sai pushes up into it, gets his hands splayed out over Shikamaru's ribcage to feel the quickened pace of his breaths. Shikamaru's mouth is hot, and something in Sai has felt cold and he didn’t even realize it until now. Didn’t notice, or didn’t care, because shinobi aren’t supposed to be warm things but—

He sucks in a breath that seems too loud as Shikamaru breaks the kiss to trace the line of his throat with his mouth. Sai tips his head back to make it easier, ghosts his fingers over whatever skin he can touch as lips follow the line of his collarbone down to his chest. A touch to Shikamaru's hair makes the man pause, but when he glances up at Sai it’s not a rebuke. The lack of refusal is all Sai needs in invitation; he tugs the tie from Shikamaru's ponytail, trying not to pull too hard, and watches dark strands tumble down. He drags his fingers through them, just barely scrapes his nails over Shikamaru's scalp and gets a low groan for it, and has to laugh.

“You're like a lazy cat, aren’t you?” he asks, amused, and Shikamaru makes a grumpy noise at him that does nothing to refute the statement.

“You talk too much,” he retorts, closing his hands around Sai's hipbones. The touch is unexpected enough to make Sai twitch, and he gasps when Shikamaru lowers his head to nose across smooth skin. It’s just enough of a tease to make Sai shiver, too close to where he wants it to resist a push up into Shikamaru's hands, but he doesn’t budge. Shikamaru lays a kiss on his thigh, then another slightly higher up, then another. Sai can feel the whisper of his breath against his cock, and Shikamaru moves over, leans down to leave a kiss on his groin just to the left of his erection, and—

Stops.

Sai whines and feels no shame in it, hips bucking up, one hand fisting in Shikamaru's hair and the other grasping vainly at the blanket. “No,” he says breathlessly. “No, please, that’s—”

Shikamaru's chuckle is something dark and heady, and the strands of hair that fall to brush against Sai's skin are like firebrands. “You're hard.”

“And you're supposed to be a genius,” Sai complains. “If you're picking _now_ to be lazy I'm going to— _ah_!”

A long, slow lick to his cock shatters every coherent thought in his head. He jerks up before he can stop himself, only for Shikamaru to press him back down with an immovable hold and drag his tongue up Sai's shaft. The pleasure is a hot-tingling flood, shaking him, and he breaths out a cry he doesn’t have the wherewithal to muffle. Shikamaru hums against his cock, wringing a full-body shiver from him, and Sai lets go of his hair for fear of doing damage, curling his fingers into his own hair instead as Shikamaru works. It’s a tide, sweeping him under, and he wants wants _wants_ —

Then the touch is gone, and Sai grabs for Shikamaru in desperation. Shikamaru catches his hand, tugs him up off the mattress with a hard pull, and they tumble over to land with Sai shivering on top, Shikamaru sprawled out beneath him as smug as a cat.

“Did I blow your mind?” Shikamaru asks, and he’s breathless himself but Sai is too full of sharp-edged need to care. He leans down, takes Shikamaru's mouth in a desperate, messy kiss, and he’s so hard it _hurts_. A fumbling reach, but before his fingers can even touch the bedside table Shikamaru is shoving a tube into his hand.

“You do it,” he says, and it’s rough enough to spark Sai's amusement again even if he doesn’t have the breath to say so. “I want to—let me watch—”

The viscous liquid is cool against Sai's fingers, but that’s hardly about to give him pause. Bracing a hand on Shikamaru's chest, he leans forward, getting his knees underneath him, and reaches back. The first slide of fingers into himself makes his breath hitch, his muscles tremble. It’s been a while since they last met, and there's no one else for Sai, so the stretch is sharp but perfect. He uses two fingers, and the angle is awkward and nowhere near deep enough, but Shikamaru's eyes are fixed on his hand, on the way Sai trembles when he grazes over his prostate. His hands are tight around Sai's thighs again, and Sai can't stop a breathless laugh as he leans forward, moaning softly as he slides a third finger in and spreads them.

“See something—” he asks, trying for coy, but has to break off with a groan at the stretch and slide. A moment and he forces his eyes open, his breathing a little more steady, and tries again. “See something you like?”

Shikamaru's eyes flicker up to his face, and if Sai wasn’t already breathless the look there would be more than enough to make him. Shikamaru is beautiful in the shadows, just a few bare slivers of light from the hallway and window illuminating his face, and the heady heat in his expression just winds the coil of desire inside of Sai tighter.

“Yeah,” he says, and the word rasps, makes Sai shiver a little as it slides down his spine.

Not willing to wait even a moment longer, he reaches back, slicks Shikamaru's cock with whatever lube is left on his hand as Shikamaru groans and arches up into the touch. A push from Sai forces his hips back down, and Sai gets a hand on his cock and shifts back, leans into the stretch but doesn’t stop until Shikamaru bottoms out. It aches but in the best way, forces the air from Sai's lungs and drives a cry from between his lips, and when he settles against Shikamaru's hips he has to stop, braced on Shikamaru's chest and trying not to come then and there.

“Idiot,” Shikamaru manages, but his expression is dazed, and his grip on Sai is practically desperate. “Did you—hurt yourself?”

Sai doesn’t fight the faint bubble of a laugh, though it makes his back arch, drives his eyes closed as he leans back carefully, slowly. “It feels good,” he says, and swallows a whine as he slides down the last centimeter. It could be an answer to Shikamaru's question or entirely unrelated, and even Sai isn’t sure. There's a buzzing under his skin, and all he can think about is how _full_ he feels, the thickness inside of him pressing at his walls. It’s always a shock to do this, has never been something Sai could simply get _used_ to, and he loves it, raw and strange and closer than anything he’s felt before. It’s like assassination, a little, like being pressed up against a target close enough to watch the life leave their eyes, but in reverse. This isn’t death; it’s the furthest thing from it.

Shikamaru groans, head tipping back against the mattress, and he doesn’t otherwise move, but he’s breathing hard. It makes Sai smile, and with a bit of effort he gets his knees under him, rise up and lets gravity pull him back down with a cry. Beneath him Shikamaru jolts, hips snapping up, and Sai lets it rock him forward only to thrust back. He gets a hand on one of Shikamaru's knees, pulled up to brace him, and lets his body lead in long, heavy strokes that make his head spin with heat.

“Sai,” Shikamaru gasps out, and an instant later there's a hand around his cock, making Sai cry out. His rhythm stutters, he sways, but with a desperate noise Shikamaru thrusts again, trying to keep him moving. It takes a moment, but Sai remembers, practically bouncing on Shikamaru's cock as he thrusts forward into the grip on his erection and down into the hot-bright stretch of the dick inside of him. It drags over nerve endings, pressure against that spot inside of him, and Sai can hear the breathless, eager noises that he’s making but couldn’t stop them for anything, doesn’t _want_ to. He can feel the pleasure winding tight, growing, burning sharp and hot like a phosphorus flame, and he wants it even as he wants this to last even a minute longer.

The muscles in his legs falter, dropping him back hard on a thrust, and Shikamaru makes a punched-out noise of pleasure, hips jerking up as his hand tightens on Sai's cock. That’s all it takes, and the coil snaps, slamming through Sai with unexpected force. He comes hard, strangled cry bursting from him as he arches, grasping desperately for an anchor as his vision whites out for a breathless, perfect moment.

He comes back as Shikamaru's hands tighten on his thighs, desperately pulling him into another thrust. All of Sai's muscles and limbs may as well be water but he leans back, gasping at the short, hard thrusts against nerves still humming with pleasure but clenching down, pushing into each arch of Shikamaru's body. He feels dizzy with it, dazed, but when Shikamaru shouts and jerks, his whole body bowing, Sai keeps his eyes open and on the other man, committing it to memory.

In the silence broken only by their heavy breaths, Sai slumps forward, forces trembling muscles to work as he pushes up one more time. The drag of Shikamaru's cock leaving his body makes him swallow another groan, and without care he lets himself pitch forward to land on the mattress beside Shikamaru, closing his eyes and basking. It feels so good like this, body well-used, pleasantly exhausted, the aftermath of arousal sparking across his nerves. He can't feel the ache inside of him yet, but he will tomorrow, and he’s glad.

The brush of fingers through his hair makes him open one eye blearily, to see Shikamaru propped up on one elbow and smirking at him.

“Mind blown?” he asks, and it’s so smug that Sai fights through the pleasantly overwhelming lassitude to answer, because he’s not about to let that stand.

“You have a nice dick,” he agrees, and precisely when Shikamaru's smugness reaches critical mass adds cheerfully, “If only you knew how to use it.”

Shikamaru splutters, deeply offended, and Sai snickers. “You make me do all the work,” he points out, and when Shikamaru grabs the pillow again he throws his arms up to shield his face, laughing brightly.

After a few swings, Shikamaru apparently decides that’s too much exertion for him, and with an exasperated sigh he tosses the pillow away. Nudging Sai over, he slides out of bed, and a minute later comes back with a warm, wet cloth that he throws at Sai's head.

“What a gentleman,” Sai tells him, cheerfully wiping himself down. Shikamaru has already done the same, so he folds the cloth neatly and sets it aside, then carefully pushes upright.

Shikamaru is watching him, sprawled on the bed once more. When Sai glances up at him—because this is the part of the night he hates, the uncertainty and lack of structure, with too many ways for things to go—he huffs out a sigh that’s likely meant to be irritated and flips the blanket next to him down.

“My mother will be home at eight,” he says, and it’s clearly a warning.

Still, that’s more than enough for Sai. He takes the offer, sliding under the covers and dropping down against the pillow, and says sweetly, “I’ll wake you at five, then.”

“Only if you want to die,” Shikamaru returns, narrowing his eyes at him. Sai gives him his most innocent smile, and Shikamaru groans. “I regret all of my life choices.”

Sai laughs, and when Shikamaru flops down in surrender he lets himself curl closer, just near enough to feel the warmth of Shikamaru's skin.

 

 

Suffuse with goodwill, Sai does _not_ wake his bed partner at five. He slips out of bed, quiet enough that Shikamaru doesn’t even stir, and collects his clothes. Most of his gear is back at Ino's house, unfortunately, but he digs through his pockets and finds a length of ninja wire, a stray kunai, his spare ink and brushes, and a scrap of paper. A trip down to the kitchen gives him a bucket with a cup of water in the bottom, and he carefully rigs it above Shikamaru's bed, ready to tip, then runs the wire holding it up to the top of the window frame.

Satisfied, Sai quickly sketches out a mouse and gives it just enough chakra to come to life, and when it scurries into his palm he raises it to eye level with a smile. “When you see the light from the windows reach _here_ —” He sets the kunai down to mark the spot “—I want you to chew through this wire, all right?”

Bright eyes study him for a moment, and then the mouse chitters an agreement. Sai strokes its tiny head, then sets it on the window frame beside the wire and slips out of the room. His tantō is still on the kitchen table where he dropped it, and he collects it, then ghosts out of the house. The Nara compound is deathly silent, as is to be expected from a clan of late sleepers, and the one guard is yawning hard enough that it’s no trouble at all to slip past her and out into the street.

Despite the hour and less sleep than would be ideal, Sai feels strangely restless. He thinks back to waking up, pressed against Shikamaru's side with Shikamaru's arm beneath his head, and something in his chest goes tight and nearly painful. He didn’t want to leave, even if Nara Yoshino was coming home from visiting her sister. He wanted to stay, to wake up with Shikamaru and mock him for his ridiculous bedhead and find out how he takes his coffee on a lazy off-duty morning. Wanted to greet Yoshino, and not have his presence be something strange.

He didn’t want to leave, but that’s not how things work between them.

Almost of their own volition, Sai's feet turn towards the Yamanaka Flower Shop. It’s nearby, at the eastern corner of the Yamanaka compound, and even though the sun has barely risen over the forest there's a light on inside.

It feels like a relief to pick the lock and slip inside, padding through the rows of cut flowers and the shelves of potted plants. Like a jungle, eerie and wild in the heavy shadows, and it makes Sai's fingers stray towards where he would normally carry his sketchbook. Not a drawing to use in a fight, but…Sai has learned, or learned again, what it’s like to draw for himself instead of just a future battle. A glance back, trying to fix the play of shadow in his mind, and then Sai moves on, taking the two steps down into the room where the bouquets are made.

Ino is at one of the tables, hair falling loose around her, flowers scattered across the surface do the wood and slipping off the edge to pool on the bench beside her. Red lotuses, white camellia, white gardenia, and Sai takes them in with something heavy settling in his chest. He’s been friends with Ino long enough to read the tale of unrequited love and years of waiting written in their petals.

“A beautiful bouquet,” he says, and Ino doesn’t jump, just raises her head and casts him a tired smile. Her face is lined, and he wonders if she got any sleep at all after their return.

With a sigh, he takes the seat next to her, scooping up a camellia that’s about to tumble to the floor and reaching out. Ino doesn’t knock his hand away, so he brushes her hair out of her face, slipping the flower in among the thick, soft strands.

“Very beautiful,” he adds, and smiles at her.

Ino laughs a little, reaching up to rub at her eyes. She straightens up, picking up a lotus, and without ceremony tucks it behind his ear. “There,” she says. “Now we match.”

Sai likes lotuses, so he would hardly mind. “Thank you,” he tells her gravely, and is pleased when Ino's smile deepens, turns just a little more genuine.

“Not a problem, partner.” Her fingers brush across his cheek, taking in the bags that his handful of hours at rest weren’t enough to banish, and her mouth pulls into a bittersweet curve. “Don’t give me that face when you're just as bad as me, Sai.”

Sai surrenders the point with a tip of one shoulder, and asks, “Mission?”

“I love you.” Ino leans over and kisses him soundly on the forehead, then slides off the bench. “Yes please. If I have to sit around the village watching her pine after that asshole—”

This is a rant Sai has heard more than once, so he feels safe interrupting. “You know, beautiful, at one point you might have been accused of the same thing.”

Ino’s humph of disdain is clear. “When I was _twelve_ and liking another girl and my best friend was scary, sure. But I _grew up_. It’s like just seeing his stupid face turns her back into a helpless child and it pisses me off. She’s is the strongest kunoichi in the village, maybe even in the world, and if I catch her sighing over the way he said goodbye to her—which, for the record, is the same way _his brother_ said goodbye to him—ugh. If I see that _one more time_ I'm going to _scream_.”

Sai holds the door into the house open for her, then follows her through. He doesn’t try to offer platitudes, because Ino gets that from Choji and doesn’t need more of it from him. Instead, he lets her grumble as he trails her up through the silent house and into her bedroom. He waits while she changes, and they're comfortable enough with each other that he doesn’t bother lingering on the other side of the door when it’s easier just to take a seat on the bed, crossing his legs under him.

“What are you thinking?” Ino asks, wriggling into her uniform top. “Scouting, border patrol, assassination, courier mission?”

With a thoughtful hum, Sai leans back on his hands, glancing up at the ceiling. “We just did an assassination, and no matter how much you want to escape Sakura I'm not going to spend four weeks camping during the rainy season, so no border patrol.”

Ino rolls her eyes, resettles the camellia in her hair, and picks up her pack and the sheath with the two long knives she favors. Sai's pack is beside it, since he left it with Ino after they finished writing their reports, and he catches it easily when she tosses it to him.

“You’ve gotten so soft it’s ridiculous,” she accuses. “Fine. How about we see what’s available and decide while we’re there?”

Sai accepts this compromise with a smile, and when Ino grabs his hands he allows her to pull him to his feet and then towards the open window. “Acceptable. But if you pick something in Frost Country be aware I’ll wait for you at the border.”

With a laugh, Ino leaps out, landing lightly in the street, and as soon as Sai touches down next to her she grabs his hand again, linking their fingers together. “ _Fine_ , then we’ll ask for the one about people going missing down near the Tea Country border. Is that warm enough for Your Highness?” The roll of her eyes is so obvious it’s practically audible. “You _could_ just wear a uniform like the rest of us, you know.”

“I like my clothes, though.” Sai doesn’t point that he _is_ wearing a uniform, and that’s one of the reasons he can't simply move on to a jounin uniform. Root is still very much a part of him—it’s the part of him that remembers _Shin_ , more importantly—and he can't give it up.

Captain Yamato understands, but sometimes Sai thinks he’s the only one who does.

Still, even if Ino can't understand completely, the way her sharp blue eyes linger on him says that she knows at least intellectually why he’s being stubborn about this, and the soft, faintly sad smile she favors him with says she isn’t going to push.

Sometimes—most of the time—Sai is very glad to have Ino as a partner.

Banishing the solemn mood, Ino bumps him with her hip, squeezes his fingers, and lets go. “Race you there,” she challenges cheekily, and in a blur she’s up on the rooftops and bolting for the Administration Building.

Sai laughs before he can help himself, calls up a shunshin, and vanishes in a swirl of ink. Ino curses when he lands in front of her, but redoubles her pace, and Sai waves tauntingly before he leaps a cluster of roots, swarms up a tree clinging to the edge of a building, and leaps for the next.

The sun is coming up, and even if this isn’t how he wanted to start the day, he can think of worse ways.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You know that scene in the horror movie where the cheerleader innocently wanders into the dimly basement by herself? Yeah. Sai is the cheerleader. This mission is the basement. Feel free to throw popcorn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somehow the goddamned plot ran away with me, so my projected chapter count has now risen from 5 to possibly 15. 
> 
> Shut up, I _know_.

 “I'm still not entirely sure this is a good idea,” Sai says doubtfully.

Ino makes a face that is likely intended to be longsuffering but ends up mostly amused. “Don’t look like this is the worst thing you’ve ever done, Sai. You were on a team with _Naruto_.”

“What does Dickless have to do with anything?” Sai wants to know, tugging futilely at the loose neckline of the shirt as if he can improve it through sheer willpower. It’s not that he objects to showing skin—if he did, he and Ino wouldn’t share clothes as frequently as they do—but if he ends up in a fight it’s going to get in the way and be a hindrance.

Swatting his hands away, Ino redoes the loose sash holding both halves shut, gives him a look that warns him to leave it alone or face the consequences, and straightens up. “You might have noticed, but some of the things Naruto gets involved in are so ridiculous it makes me want to cry. And I _know_ Sakura got dragged into things, so you probably did, too.”

Sai opens his mouth to protest that missions with Naruto were fairly standard. Then he remembers kinjutsus capable of wiping out whole villages, an invasion of flying machines, time travel, _dimension_ travel, and homicidal moon goddesses, and shuts it again.

Ino snorts, patting him on the head sympathetically. “Exactly. And besides, this will be fine. Just flirt with these people like you do with Shikamaru.” She must catch the bewildered expression that Sai _knows_ he’s wearing, because she freezes, pale eyes narrowing. “Sai. _How_ do you flirt with Shikamaru?”

“I don’t? My books say flirting is a social and occasionally sexual activity involving verbal or written communication as well as body language by one person to another, either to suggest interest in a deeper relationship or—”

“Stop,” Ino says, just shy of begging. She presses a hand over her face, takes a breath, looks at him, and then takes another. Sai can practically see her counting down from ten in her head, but he doesn’t have any idea _why_. “Okay, let me rephrase this. When you want to have sex with Shika—” She makes a face like even _saying_ those words pain her “—how do you let him know?”

“I tell him?” It comes out as more of a question than Sai meant it to.

Ino still has a hand pressed over her face. “Please tell me there's an ‘or’ in there somewhere.”

Sai tries vainly to find the answer she’s looking for. “I…also insult his dick?”

“Of course you do,” Ino sighs. She raises her head and looks him over in something like despair, then says, “You know what? Let me do the talking. Just—just stand there and look pretty, okay?”

Standing there is something Sai is more than happy to do, so he nods agreeably, though he feels the need to point out, “I could find out much more information if they didn’t know I was there.”

“You can do that tomorrow.” Ino wiggles a little to straighten her skirt, flips her hair—auburn right now, thanks to a henge, because the Yamanaka Clan Head and second-in-command of Konoha's T & I is fairly well-known even this far from the village—and hooks her arm through his. “Besides, this is a small village. Me wandering around alone would attract a lot more notice than a young couple in love.”

Sai does not feel confident about his ability to hold up his half of the charade. There's a reason Ino always deals with the _seduction_ part of seduction missions, or even the interaction part of information gathering, while Sai hangs back in the shadows and keeps an eye on things. It’s not that he’s _never_ done it, but even when their targets prefer males he tends to let Ino do all the talking and feed him lines.

With the uncanny insight that’s put her on the fast track to replace Ibiki when he retires, Ino catches that on his face despite his efforts to hide it and makes a soft sound of amusement. “Sai. Two-thirds of my clan is convinced we’re madly in love and hiding it badly, and half the village regularly asks me when the wedding is. Just act like normal and you’ll do fine.”

Well, Sai can certainly do that. He squeezes Ino's arm a little, and she looks up at him and smiles warmly, patting his sleeve as she steers him out of the forest and towards the worn dirt track leading into the tiny village. Then her words register, and Sai almost trips over his own feet. “Wait, your _clan_ thinks that we’re—”

Ino laughs at him, and her grin is cheerful and a little wicked. “Sai, you practically live in my spare bedroom. All of your gear is at my house. We spend most of our time together, take all of our missions together, and go out to eat together. Of course they think we’re dating.”

Put that way, Sai supposes it makes sense, and besides. Sex friends isn’t precisely something one would advertise, especially when that one is Nara Clan Head and Jounin Commander of Konoha. _Extra_ especially when the Nara Clan Head’s sex friend was formerly part of the borderline-traitorous Root organization.

“…Oh,” is all Sai says, though the sharp glance Ino gives him means she probably read all of his thoughts in that one word. “I can go back to my apartment, if you want.”

“I like having you around, though.” Ino casts him a smile, and maybe half of it is for the sake of a farmer with an oxcart just leaving the village, but the other half is the familiar one Sai likes. Ino smiles very easily, very naturally, and Sai likes to think he’s been learning from her example. Naruto even told him his face had stopped being quite so weird last time they met, which is definitely an improvement.

“If you're sure,” Sai says, because Ino is quite likely his best friend, and he’d rather not make things difficult for her with her clan.

There's a brief pause, and when Sai looks down in concern there's a faint thread of melancholy in Ino's eyes. She feels his gaze and looks up, smile returning, though this time its cast is reassuring more than fond. “Honestly, Sai, I'm glad you're there. The house feels so empty sometimes. I'm not used to it being quite so quiet.”

Inoichi’s loss, like Shin’s, is something they don’t talk about, although there's a silent understanding between them that’s built around it. Leaning in a little, Sai presses their shoulders together, and is relieved when Ino presses back.

“I'm glad to live with you, too,” he returns, because it feels like he should say something, and the truth is probably a good start.

Ino laughs, merry and warm, and even framed by red-brown hair instead of her normal blonde, her pale eyes are brilliant. “We should make a pact. If neither one of us is married by the time we’re thirty, let’s marry each other. Then you get to be a Yamanaka and I get the clan off my back.”

Sai's breath catches a little at the thought of having a clan name, of having a _clan_. He’s always just been Sai, or a nameless Root member. What he has now, where he is—it’s good. Amazing, compared to what he once thought he’d have. But to have a family and a name that isn’t just a placeholder?

“Agreed,” he says, and if Ino catches the roughness in the word she doesn’t mention it.

“Come on,” she says instead. “Let’s find the inn, and then go find a bar.”

There are things Sai likes less than information-gathering missions, but honestly not many. Hopefully they find someone to kill sooner rather than later. That’s the part he’s good at.

It probably says a lot about him that Sai would rather assassinate someone than gossip in a bar, but Sai is aware of who he is by now. He doesn’t let it bother him, just follows Ino's lead and hopes the night ends quickly.

 

 

“Oh, how romantic!”

It takes far too much effort for Sai to keep his smile from sliding into a grimace.

“Isn’t it?” Ino agrees in the airheaded little girl voice she always uses when she wants people to underestimate her. Sai is always kind of astonished that it works, because he can never quite manage to ignore the calculation in her gaze, the sharpness of her attention. Ino's remarkably good at manipulation, though, and not just when using it on Shikamaru and Choji. As she leans into Sai's side, the cook she’s been regaling with the dramatic and thrilling tale of their elopement in the face of feuding families wipes her eyes and smiles broadly at them, clearly taken in.

“You make me want to be young again,” she confesses, reaching out to pat Ino's hand. At the same moment her attention falls on Sai, and she adds, “An artist as well! That makes it even better!”

Sai has very little idea how his ability to draw makes a story lifted from a terrible romance novel better, but he smiles back, tries not to flinch away from the pinch Ino delivers to his ribcage, and says with inspiration pulled from one of Ino's more palatable books, “Now I’ll always have my most beautiful subject with me.”

The cook’s eyes go teary again, and Ino kisses his cheek, so this was apparently the right response. Sai just hopes his breath of relief isn’t as obvious as it feels.

After she wipes her eyes, the woman looks between them, then at Ino, apparently realizing that Ino is the talkative one between them. “What will you do now? Will your families come looking for you?”

Ino's expression clouds into beautiful sadness, weary with grief and wistfulness, and she takes Sai's hand in her own. Sai attempts to look properly besotted and simultaneously lost. “We’re trying to find somewhere to settle. Our families have likely disowned us by now, but I know how to run a farm.”

“And I'm willing to learn what I need to help Beautiful prosper,” Sai adds, prompted by another pinch to his ribs. He’s going to have a bruise by the time Ino is through with him.

Suddenly, the woman’s pleasant, friendly face flickers with something like alarm. She stiffens, and Sai can feel Ino tense faintly against his side. Not noticeable to a civilian, but Sai can tell; it’s clear she saw the same reaction.

“Oh,” the woman says, but it’s tight, and the enthusiasm that came so easily before is forced. “Well, my sister moved to this little town about a day and a half from here—she says her crops grow like nothing else. I can give you directions if you—”

“But this town is so pretty,” Ino says, and it’s her brainless voice but her attention is entirely fixed on the cook, reading every tell. Seeing that, Sai allows himself to shift back slightly, more of his focus on their surroundings. He’s never failed to watch Ino's back before, and he’s not about to start now.

“My sister’s is prettier, I have to say,” the woman tells her, and it sounds strangely desperate. “This town’s too small for a bright young couple like you. Head north—good places to raise a family up there.” With a surreptitious glance around the otherwise empty stand, she gathers up their empty plates and beats a quick retreat to the back.

Once the sound of running water and clinking plates rises, Ino leans back on her stool and hums thoughtfully. “That’s pretty much the exact answer Hanabi got when she mentioned sticking around to investigate. Well, at least now we know it’s not just shinobi they won't say anything to.” She mulls the woman’s words over for a moment, and then sighs, brushing her hair out of her face. “‘Good places to raise a family up there’—implying that this isn’t. Something’s definitely happening here.”

When Ino glances up at him, Sai meets her gaze with a smile, tipping his head faintly. “Did you notice? Everyone we’ve seen here is under fourteen or over forty.” Ino blinks, eyes narrowing, and Sai adds, “Those between the two ages is far more likely to be a threat.”

“And far more likely to survive hard labor.” Ino glances towards the kitchen, mouth tightening. “You think it’s a trafficking ring?”

Sai shrugs. He doesn’t have enough information to say one way or the other, and he isn’t about to speculate when both his and Ino's lives could be at risk from a wrong answer. “I think we should come back as ourselves, rather than as a couple in love.”

Ino gives an exaggerated moue of disappointment, resting her chin in the cup of her hands. “That bar was _dirty_. I don’t want to go back there.”

“Then you can check the inn and I’ll investigate the bar,” Sai offers easily. He has no particular reservations about revisiting the bar, and he’s fully aware that Ino can hold her own for more than long enough to call for help, should she need it at all.

“You're always so reasonable,” Ino huffs, like it’s a complaint. She lists sideways to lean against him, and Sai automatically runs his fingers through her hair. A sigh tickles against his skin, and then Ino nods. “All right. Let’s get back to the inn and get changed.”

The cook still hasn’t come out, so Sai leaves the money for their food on the counter and joins Ino in the street. She stays close to him, their pinky fingers linked as they walk, and it’s only partly for show—it’s always easier to notice even the smallest tells in a partner when in physical contact, after all.

“There should be a lot more people here,” Ino says quietly, and her smile is silly and besotted but it doesn’t come anywhere close to her eyes. “Now that I'm looking I can see where they're _supposed_ to be, so…where are they?”

Something prickles down the back of Sai's neck, like eyes on him, like something hostile. He doesn’t let himself tense, doesn’t look around, but the feeling is definitely there. Ino's fingers tighten around his, but he can't tell if she’s reacting to the sensation of being watched or his own reaction.

 _Nowhere good_ , he thinks of saying, and he refuses to guess with their safety in the balance, but…that’s not a guess at all. It’s gut instinct, years as a shinobi suddenly alert and wary and watchful. He keeps his mouth shut, though; Ino is likely already thinking the same thing.

 

 

The shadows are Sai's territory. It’s one of the reasons, he thinks, that he likes Shikamaru as much as he does. They have commonalities, and if anyone can appreciate the darkness the way Sai does, it’s the man who quite literally controls it.

No one else looks closely enough. A patch of shadows is always just a patch of shadows—a possible threat, to another shinobi, or something to be avoided if they're a civilian. Sai sees a tool, a weapon, an escape.

He sticks to the lengthening shadows now, brush and scroll close at hand even if logic says he won't need them in a bar frequented by farmers and tradesmen. Easy enough to slip in through the storeroom and then stick to the edges of the rafters, watching people talk. There are only a handful, which fits the village’s reduced numbers, and those here are hunkered down over their drinks, tense and wary. For the most part, they're not talking, which makes gathering information far more difficult.

There's one group in the corner that he’s focusing most of his attention on, even if they're more interested in their drinks than each other. Weathered old farmers, three women and two men, already deep in their cups. Carefully, Sai hops across the rafters to perch over their heads, watching them carefully. One woman looks like she’s been crying, and the other four are grim-faced.

It’s only after the waitress has delivered another round of drinks that the woman with the red eyes moves, taking a shaky breath and raising her cup. “To Hajin,” she says, and her voice breaks halfway through the name.

The fair-haired woman leans into her, setting their shoulders together. Comfort, Sai recognizes, because body language is simple enough to read when it’s blatant like this. She lifts her cup as well, their companions doing the same, and all four echo, “To Hajin,” in low tones.

The first woman sets her cup down, presses her hands over her face, and hunches down like she’s about to start crying again.

“I hate this,” the dark-skinned man say, barely loud enough for Sai to catch. “If those bastards think they can keep doing this—”

The third woman makes a low, angry noise. “Quiet, Tomi. If we just—they’ll move on soon. They’ll have no choice.”

“When?” the second woman asks, bitter and low. “When all of us are dead and there's nothing left here? I say we should march out into the woods and—”

“No.” The second man lays a hand over hers, squeezing tightly. “If we do that, it’s throwing our lives away. They’ll leave soon. We have to believe that.”

The crying woman makes a sound like a muffled wail, full of grief and pain, and that’s clear enough for Sai to recognize without help. He curls his fingers around his brush, glancing around the room, and marks the way everyone else is very carefully not watching the small gathering. No attention on it, no glances over, but grim faces all around.

 _They’ll leave soon_ , Sai thinks, and with a few sweeping strokes of his brush a magpie is leaping from the paper, spreading its wings and dropping to land on Sai's arm. He inks a careful line of characters across the painted feathers, then murmurs, “Find Ino,” and tosses it into the air. The magpie swoops down, impossible to mark against the surrounding darkness, and right out into the night through a cracked-open window.

Sai himself slips out through the back room while the waitress is distracted, then pauses to get his bearings. He’s certain that the villagers weren’t talking about himself and Ino when they said that, so logically he can assume they mean another group, clearly dangerous and likely the cause of the disappearances.

 _I say we should march out into the woods_.

So. The forest is the most likely place to find them. That opens up a lot of territory, but not an unmanageable amount. Sai can likely cover most of it himself in a single night, if he works fast enough. Ino can help, if his bird finds her, but Sai is the better at tracking between the two of them, and he’s already close to the woods. They didn’t see anything on their way in, coming from the east, so the western edge of town is the sensible place to start.

Sai doesn’t allow himself to waver or feel fatigue; he’s a shinobi on a mission, and that’s for later.

(He doesn’t allow himself to think, just for a moment, of Shikamaru and the way he woke up, curled into warm skin with the steady rise of Shikamaru's ribcage against his shoulder. Doesn’t allow himself to think of relaxing, finally sliding down from the eternal alertness that Danzō drilled into him. Doesn’t think of peace and rest and sleep and warmth, because those things don’t belong here and now.)

No time for weakness, or for waiting. Sai leaps forward into a run, low and fast, with every sense alert. Out of the tiny village, into the weighty darkness of the trees, and this is as familiar as pain. He checks for prints, barely slowing, then leaps for the branches when he finds none. One degree south, then back to the ground to trace the start of another footpath, but it only leads to a shallow creek. Another degree, and there's no path at all. Another, and another, and—

A check of the sky shows that it’s still hours until dawn, and the moon is faint, but Sai pauses anyway, scouring the ground more carefully as he makes a second pass. What catches his attention is a faint scuff, barely even enough to be considered a partial footprint, but it’s the only one he sees and that makes it suspicious. Villages can't hide their tracks like this, and so close to the road they wouldn’t bother. There's no prey to stalk here, and the print is relatively fresh. A day old, or maybe two—there was a storm the day before that, so it couldn’t be older.

Covered tracks likely mean a shinobi, though. Sai stays crouched where he is for a long moment, considering. Ino is a sensor, and a very good one, so if he can't pick up a trail she can try scanning for their target. But, while that makes things easier, facing off against shinobi could be a problem, since even missing-nin tend to be hired by someone else. They’ll be looking for a client, too, if that’s the case.

Sai takes a breath, reminding himself not to jump to conclusions. It’s always been one of his flaws as an operative—no. As a _shinobi_ , because he’s not Root anymore. Guesses and wild conjunction won't help until he can find actual evidence on something.

Decided, Sai slides deeper into the undergrowth, looking for any more missed prints. There aren’t any, but several yards to the east he finds a hair clinging to a low twig. It’s too dark to make out the color, and Sai doesn’t try to grab it in case it’s a signal of some sort, but it’s a good marker. That direction takes him to another half-blurred footprint, this one clear enough to recognize as a shinobi sandal, and by the size likely a man’s.

He’s just rising from his crouch as a flash of pale hair announces Ino's arrival. She drops from the treetops to land without even stirring the dirt, and when she rises her eyes are sharp.

“Other side of the village is clear. Find anything?”

Sai tips his head at the print. “They conceal themselves about as well as Dickless.”

Ino snorts quietly, checking the direction and then falling into step with him as they head deeper into the trees. “Naruto wouldn’t even bother with that much. If I wanted to track him and Sasuke I’d just look for destroyed mountains and smoking craters in the ground.”

Somehow, Sai suspects she’s not too far off from the reality of things. Not that he would want to look for Naruto. Or Sasuke, for that matter. Unless, of course, he wanted to mock Naruto for practically eloping with his former enemy.

It’s tempting, but Sai has resisted this long. Mostly by saving up all his jokes for when Naruto and Sasuke inevitably get done wandering the continent like bums and head back to Konoha.

“Confident,” Ino murmurs as they find a patch of displaced pebbles, scraped by an errant step. She ducks under a low branch, a flick of her fingers directing Sai's gaze towards the glancing imprint of a much smaller sandal. A woman, likely, and if there’s not just one person working alone the odds immediately shift towards a group of more than two. That’s how shinobi luck—and Konoha luck in particular—tends to work. Simple missions never stay simple, you're always outnumbered, the odds are always much higher than assumed, and the stakes are generally world-ending.

Or, of course, it’s possible that Sai was simply on a team with Uzumaki Naruto for too long and is overreacting.

(He really doesn’t think he is.)

“They haven’t been caught yet,” he reminds his partner, checking their heading. They're a good ways from the village by now, but not so far as to be inconvenient for someone walking. And—

“Sai,” Ino says, and her voice is sharp in the way that normally means an attack is barreling at their heads.

Sai jerks around on instinct, immediately looking for the threat, but there isn’t one. Ino is just standing there, staring at the trunk of a particularly large tree. Any complaints Sai might think to make for the fright die on his tongue the moment he sees her face, though; she’s about three shades paler than normal, her eyes wide and very close to frightened, kunai in hand. Quickly, Sai joins her, trying to follow her gaze to what has her so alarmed.

It’s not difficult to spot, but one glance and Sai's breath catches in his throat.

There's a mark inscribed into the trunk of the tree, shallow lines that only just manage to catch the shadows enough to be visible right now. A circle, perfectly round, surrounding an inverted triangle, edges contained within the ring.

The symbol of Jashin, Sai thinks, and can't fight the instinctive urge to curl his fingers just a little more tightly around his tantō’s hilt. That’s the symbol of Jashin, leagues and years away from where it has any business being, and even the knowledge that Hidan is buried deep beneath the earth on Nara Clan lands isn’t enough to stop the chill that chases down Sai's spine.

He curses whatever worst-case luck haunts all the members of Team 7, because this?

This is so very far past worst-case scenario, and Sai has a sinking suspicion that the only direction this mission can go is downhill.

**Author's Note:**

> To the pain in the ass I would rather die than live without, for the irritant who’s been my anchor more times than I can count, for the twin who’s shared my life from day one and made the world so much brighter and more beautiful—this is for you. Here’s to another year shared, and to all the laughter and happiness and hope you always carry. If it’s us against the world for the rest of eternity, I have to say I like those odds.


End file.
